The house was deathly quiet. I guess Emily Dickenson and the like knew what the phrase meant. I did not – till I entered the house and could hear the deafening silence.
He had gone – just a split second and he had crossed the boundaries. But before he went he left a baggage full of regrets, a house full of raw rage, rage that he thought he was in control all the time – and proved himself wrong.
He had been ailing a while now, but nothing that was not due to old age and atrophy. The ailment was more of the mind – the thoughts that did a wild summer dance in his chaotic mind, that said, I am all that there is to life –
Each blow to his strong opinion of what he thought was his existential world was a blow to his self-declared independence. His wife preceded him to the nether world – He was a mute spectator to something which was beyond his control.
His elder son, the apple of his eye left him for greener pastures – just like that – without any warning, without any sign of remorse that in his old age, he did not even ask for his bereaved father’s sanction for this action of his.
His prized asset, his body, his health started failing him. Each of his organ was a living time bomb; and he did not know it. Simply because he thought the doctor fraternity was not for him. Every action that was taken to save him was on the brink of failure, and his younger son and daughter-in-law fought a war to bring him back. Sheer obstinacy prevented him from telling them about his failing health. Failing eyesight one can handle; detect and per force take action. But a failing kidney? or a failing heart ? or any dying organ, deep within his body, which may have been just plain tired of his regimental attitude and emotions ? Something was corroding his very being from within. He looked healthy from the outside, but what was consuming him from within ? Nobody knew. He did not believe in sharing. All he believed in was shares.
Discipline was his second name. He carried it too far though. He carried it so far, that by the time his son and daughter in law could draw him back, they were exhausted with the effort of constant reprimands, requests to him to take life a little more slowly. With a failing heart functioning at a mere thirty percent, he had to give up what he liked to do most – walking.
But he decided to go walking. So against doctor’s advice, and when his daughter in law’s watchful eyes blinked for a second, he escaped – and walked to his death.
And left behind thoughts of how weak this strong man was. Thoughts of how cheated the survivors felt. Thoughts of sheer rage. The rage, that did not even allow them to grieve him with dignity which one would have thought they owed to him. And at times, pangs of guilt, that somewhere they had failed him.
He had the last word though. He left them with this feeling that they would remember him like this as long as they lived - and even after. Not with love, but with pain.
He had gone – just a split second and he had crossed the boundaries. But before he went he left a baggage full of regrets, a house full of raw rage, rage that he thought he was in control all the time – and proved himself wrong.
He had been ailing a while now, but nothing that was not due to old age and atrophy. The ailment was more of the mind – the thoughts that did a wild summer dance in his chaotic mind, that said, I am all that there is to life –
Each blow to his strong opinion of what he thought was his existential world was a blow to his self-declared independence. His wife preceded him to the nether world – He was a mute spectator to something which was beyond his control.
His elder son, the apple of his eye left him for greener pastures – just like that – without any warning, without any sign of remorse that in his old age, he did not even ask for his bereaved father’s sanction for this action of his.
His prized asset, his body, his health started failing him. Each of his organ was a living time bomb; and he did not know it. Simply because he thought the doctor fraternity was not for him. Every action that was taken to save him was on the brink of failure, and his younger son and daughter-in-law fought a war to bring him back. Sheer obstinacy prevented him from telling them about his failing health. Failing eyesight one can handle; detect and per force take action. But a failing kidney? or a failing heart ? or any dying organ, deep within his body, which may have been just plain tired of his regimental attitude and emotions ? Something was corroding his very being from within. He looked healthy from the outside, but what was consuming him from within ? Nobody knew. He did not believe in sharing. All he believed in was shares.
Discipline was his second name. He carried it too far though. He carried it so far, that by the time his son and daughter in law could draw him back, they were exhausted with the effort of constant reprimands, requests to him to take life a little more slowly. With a failing heart functioning at a mere thirty percent, he had to give up what he liked to do most – walking.
But he decided to go walking. So against doctor’s advice, and when his daughter in law’s watchful eyes blinked for a second, he escaped – and walked to his death.
And left behind thoughts of how weak this strong man was. Thoughts of how cheated the survivors felt. Thoughts of sheer rage. The rage, that did not even allow them to grieve him with dignity which one would have thought they owed to him. And at times, pangs of guilt, that somewhere they had failed him.
He had the last word though. He left them with this feeling that they would remember him like this as long as they lived - and even after. Not with love, but with pain.
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